


Biology lessons

by Crystal_Mazes_Lovely_Corner



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU-futuristic, Alien Derek, Blowjobs, Dirty Talk, Fisting, Gender nonconforming character, M/M, Tentacles, alien names, alien peter, but the same characters, space stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 12:02:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18637750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystal_Mazes_Lovely_Corner/pseuds/Crystal_Mazes_Lovely_Corner
Summary: They called themselves Haa'les, or something similar, and even Stiles couldn't find much about them, and he had access to archived research through his school. They were supposedly shapeshifters, but in a limited sense. They were bipedal all the time, that was the only consistency. They could make themselves look like humans, or over bland versions or humans, or they could make wings and extra arms, or tails or giant hands. There were images now, of Haa'les posing in magazines, their shining heterochromatic eyes staring out of the pictures like they were just so happy to be there. It left Stiles fascinated.He had spent the last part of his junior year requesting information on them. It had taken weeks to find the right diplomat, and even then the only response he had gotten was 'what is out to the public is the only information we are willing to put out at this time.' Stiles didn't take rejection that easily, so he had spent the first month of his precious summer planning a way to sneak onto this ship. After all that, his dad came home one day with an invitation, he had almost collapsed with the irony of it all.





	Biology lessons

**Author's Note:**

> d4: con  
> d6: creature  
> d8: teen wolf  
> d9: futuristic  
> d12: fisting!  
> d20: orgasm denial. 
> 
> I am not good at making up names, that's a big reason I write fanfic in the first place.  
> Udunie gives me love and happiness, but also editing stuff, so much love!

Stiles fidgeted in the elevator up to the top floor. He'd never been in a spaceship this big, this new. Even though his planet was part of the core seven (the last one though), he lived in the middle of a fishing town, under the Egorian sea, as far from space as one could get. But now he was here on a Diplomatic ship, getting ready to meet a new race. 

Anytime any non-human wanted to make a trading deal, everyone got into a tizzy. Half of the universe thought that humans were too far beneath them, and the other half thought they were insanely fascinating. It would happen every few years or so that some aliens would want to recruit humans, or negotiate peaceful living for a random moon outside of the asteroid belt.

But these guys wanted to set up on the cores... because they liked human fashion. 

And no one was prepared for that. Some people were suspicious, obviously, so this was what everyone had agreed to. A melding of the minds, as it were.

Stiles' father was only a minor town peacekeeper, but everyone had been invited to see these strange creatures. They called themselves Haa'les, or something similar, and even Stiles couldn't find much about them, and he had access to archived research through his school. They were supposedly shapeshifters, but in a limited sense. They were bipedal all the time, that was the only consistency. They could make themselves look like humans, or over bland versions or humans, or they could make wings and extra arms, or tails or giant hands. There were images now, of Haa'les posing in magazines, their shining heterochromatic eyes staring out of the pictures like they were just so happy to be there. It left Stiles fascinated. 

He had spent the last part of his junior year requesting information on them. It had taken weeks to find the right diplomat, and even then the only response he had gotten was 'what is out to the public is the only information we are willing to put out at this time.' Stiles didn't take rejection that easily, so he had spent the first month of his precious summer planning a way to sneak onto this ship. After all that, his dad came home one day with an invitation, he had almost collapsed with the irony of it all. 

The main areas of the ship were not the shiny chrome and white that rich humans tended to gravitate towards. Someone had designed this space with their visitors in mind, making it almost like a large human museum, with a park in one section, a lake section, and a section that was designed to look like a town, complete with shops and restaurants. It reminded Stiles of a resort he had seen advertised, and it looked fun even for him.

His dad tugged him by the elbow when he saw Stiles start to veer off toward a food stand, quaintly styled with wheels and an umbrella. "Not now, you don't want to get stuff over your suit." 

Stiles pouted. "What if they want an offering?" 

"Then there will be food in the meeting room," his dad said. "I'm sure they have all the bells and whistles they think are necessary." An officer came up to them and directed them to the conference hall. Before they went inside, His dad pulled him to the side. "Now how are we going to behave?" 

Stiles huffed. "Don't ask any invasive questions, don't stare, and don't tap on the table," he recited. 

Dad smiled, squeezing his shoulder. "And hopefully when this is over, you will get the chance to talk to one of them."

****

When they stepped into the meeting room, they were the last of the humans to arrive. A lot of the people Stiles recognized. There was Argent the younger, who ran a bunch of tech companies, mainly dealing with transportation. There was the President of their planet, and because of the small population of their planet, Stiles had met him a few times before, and a bunch of other town peacekeepers that were part of the council. His dad shook hands and made small talk, when Mr. Argent walked over to him. "I heard you're studying Alien biology," he started off with. 

"I just started working on a thesis idea," he said, "Though it's not going so well at the moment."

"You have a few months yet before the semester starts," Mr. Argent replied politely. "Are you looking forward to meeting the Haa'les?" 

Stiles nodded excitedly. "I'm kinda hoping that I'll be able to get some data on them," he admitted, "Or maybe get some records, since we know so little about them. Though maybe that would be cheating, because all I would have to do to add to the literature is a pie chart of statistics."

Mr. Argent chuckled. "Well, if it's something you are interested in, you can keep pursuing it after you've graduated," he said. "There's always more to do in that field."

The doors slid open, and all conversation was cut off. Three people walked in, more like glided, because they didn't bounce, and their flowing robes didn't let them see what was going on down there. The one leading the charge was female presenting, with a thin purple face that was shifting from light lilac to a deep violet to match her black coverings. They were so thin Stiles was sure they should have been transparent, but he couldn't get a grasp of her form underneath. Behind her were two people, a broader person, but with delicate features, and another that was definitely a male. He was solidly teal, his jaw a chiseled cut. His eyes swept over the room like it was physically beneath him. With a jolt, Stiles realized that he was one of the models that had been showing up in the past few years. His eyes, right now a bright golden color, lingered on everyone in the room. 

The President went up to them and greeted them politely, then started introducing some of the other humans, and the mingling continued. Stiles stood by his dad, trying to subtly track the Haa'les through the room. He obviously wasn't sneaky enough, because the teal one kept making dead-on eye contact with him, and they did not look amused. They made their way over to them, The teal one smiling sharply in greeting. As the aliens approached, Stiles couldn't help but notice how tall he was., towering over both of them by at least a foot. Stiles felt his cheeks heat up and wow, he didn't know he found that attractive, but now there was no turning back huh?

Stiles opened his mouth to say hello, but his dad beat him to it. "Hello Petre, I'm Peacekeeper Stilinski." Petre nodded and shook his hand. "And this is my son, Stiles." 

Petre faltered when he heard the name, but he recovered and held out his hand for Stiles to take. "I am pleased to meet you," the alien said in a lilting voice. He gestured to the one beside him, "This is Teel, and her child D'rek." Stiles shook all of their hands, but noticed that the youngest one, D'rek, had a pinched look, and they were quick to peel off to talk to the other guests.  
Petre shifted toward him, grabbing Stiles’ attention again. His body language changed, his shoulders slumping and his arms relaxing to his side. Stiles wanted desperately to start asking him questions, but he had promised his dad that he would behave, so when Petre started to ask personal but boring questions 'what do you do?' 'where do you live?' 'any other family?' he went along with it. He cheerfully recounted what it was like to live away from home and learning how to cook on his own, which actually lead to some snippets of Petre's own diet that Stiles had to stop himself from writing down. 

Soon everyone was called to take their seats. It was a large oval table, and had the Haa'les sitting on the opposite side of some 20 odd humans. Stiles couldn't care less about the trade deals, the shops, the logistics, the fucking red tape. Petre seemed to be operating as a translator, even though the androgynous one sounded just as competent, the woman turned to Petre when she did not know something, which was fairly frequently. 

Despite being known for their shapeshifting (basically the only thing they knew about their biology for certain) the only one that seemed to be applying it was Petre. His skin would change color, from the teal he was originally, to light tones of green to a dark red seemingly at random. He would flip his hair, which would shimmer and weave itself into new forms. Once, he made deliberate eye contact with Stiles after not being needed for a long while, and he turned his eyes from a nice round human shape to something similar to a cats, changing colors so fast that Stiles couldn't keep up. He got the feeling that Petre was... showing off. 

It was the only entertaining thing for the next three hours.

*******

Stiles was sitting in the cafe in the town section of the main area. His dad had gone off to socialize with his co-workers, so he couldn’t tell Stiles what to order, sugar cookies and old fashioned ice cream, two things he hadn't had since he'd gone off to college. 

"Do you mind if I join you?" 

Stiles jumped, his spoon spinning out of his hands. He turned to see the Haa'le, Petre was standing there, his skin now a lighter shade of blue, and his chin now adorned with tightly groomed facial hair. He was smirking, but Stiles knew now that that must have been more of a camouflage mechanic than an actual emotion. Stiles gestured to the empty seat across from him in a daze. Petre sat down gracefully, placing his elbows on the surface, and his face in his hands. His gaze traveled up and down his form, and Stiles couldn't help but feel like he was being dissected. "You're the young one that has been requesting biological information on us, are you not?"

Stiles blinked. "How did you know that?" 

Petre chuckled. "My sister's spawn is the one you have been communicating with. They have been... frustrated by your persistence."

Stiles felt his ears turn pink, and the effect did not leave Petre's attention. "I didn't mean to cause them trouble, I was just trying to get information for a research project."

Petre tilts his head. "You are a scientist?" 

Stiles smiles. "I'm trying to be. I'm just finishing working on the basics." 

"Fascinating," Petre said, and seems to genuinely mean it. "And you must have excellent taste to want to study us so badly." 

Stiles had to laugh at the dual-sided compliment. "What can I say? A highly advanced race wants to be in contact with us and you guys want our textiles. I can't help it. I would probably be more interested in the races of that 'galactic council' if they weren't so..." Stiles paused, trying to think of a word that he could say in polite company.

But Petre swooped in. "A bunch of uptight assholes?"

The shock almost knocked Stiles back, but he couldn't stop the smile spreading across his face. "Where did you learn such language?" he asked before he could stop himself. 

"I worked with your models," Petre replied smoothly. "I am surprised that we have so much in common. Our species, I mean." 

Stiles perked up at this. "Like what?" 

Petre smirked, and Stiles was getting the feeling that it meant what he thought it meant. "You've been waiting for an opening like that, haven't you?"

"Like you said, I'm persistent," Stiles replied, more confident that he wasn't going to cause an interstellar incident by opening up.

Petre gave him a once over one more time. "We have been keeping information about us away from the public because we had feared that it would interfere with our dealings with your government. However," he said, leaning back in his chair, "I anticipate that we will have an official trade deal by the end of the day." He reached into his robe-like shirt and pulled out a pass card and placed it on the table. "If you wish to discuss further, come to my rooms when you have a spare moment, and we can discuss how to get you what you need." 

Stiles' eyes bulged out of his head. He had to clench his hands under the table to stop him from snatching the card up, instead of coolly reaching across the table. "Are you sure? I might ask a lot of really invasive questions.

Petre smirked. "I'm looking forward to it."

****

Stiles couldn't help straightening his shirt as he knocked on the door, when there was no answer he tried the keycard he was given, and the door slid open without hesitation. Once inside, he could see why no one answered, This was more of a large apartment than a hotel room, complete with an expansive open area that was completely empty. He could hear the grating sounds of the Haa'le's language coming from further inside, but he couldn't place it before they came to meet him, coming out of the hallway in the back. Petre walked over to him, followed by the other Haa'le, D'rek. They seemed perfectly neutral until they laid eyes on Stiles, at which point an impressive display of a sunrise danced across their skin, along with an intense scowl. 

Stiles felt a little guilty, now that he knew he was standing in front of the person he had been badgering for months. He was about to apologize, but D'rek walked passed him, shoving a huge file into his hands as he stomped off. 

Stiles was left floundering, but Petre was still there, and he appeared to be laughing. "D'rek is just upset that they lost after battling you for so long." He tapped the top of the manilla folder. "That is a translation of our biology textbooks, the forerunners of its class. We both worked very hard on it." 

Stiles pushed that to the side for now. He didn't like the idea of one of them being mad at him, but he was awestruck by what he now possessed. It was easily a foot thick, but he had never been more excited to be given dense text. "Thank you so much," he said, trying to put as much of his gratitude into his voice.

Petre smiled at him kindly. "You're quite welcome." He placed his hand on Stiles' shoulder and turned him to face the room they had come from. "Why don't we discuss it in my rooms. Despite my best efforts with the translators, I'm sure that there are some areas that could be misinterpreted." 

Stiles clutched his horde to his chest, following behind Petre eagerly. 

*******

"You're what is where?!" 

Petre laughed at his outburst, so hard he leaned over onto the table. "I don't see how it's any stranger then where your sexual organs are!" he said when he caught his breath. "Yours are where you defecate."

"Ew! When you say it like that it sounds gross!" 

"That's because it is!" 

Stiles was equally out of breath from laughter. "We keep clean, even those of us," he waved vaguely toward the bathroom of the en suite, "without the fancy shower water that seeks out harmful bacteria." 

"How do you keep it from interfering with your internal bacterial microbiome?"

"They don't," Stiles snorted. "They think it's better for you." He could see that Petre was going to question him about it more, but he cut it off with a shrug. "Rich people are idiots, some of them think we're a whole other species ourselves." 

"That is stupid," Petre agreed, staring at Stiles intently. 

Stiles cleared his throat and looked away. "And besides, that area isn't the only, uh, erogenous zone." 

Petre blinked. "I don't know what that word means." 

Stiles' blush was back at full force. "It- just means that there are other places that can make people feel... like that," he said quickly. 

Petre tilted his head to the side, rising from his chair. "Places like where?" 

"Um," Stiles said as Petre got closer, standing over him, he was at eye level with his stomach. "Some people are really particular, and everyone has different areas," he explained as Petre leaned forward, his long arms bracketing him on the armrests. "People like it when their lips touch, that's called kissing, their stomach, their backs...."

"On that, we can agree," Petre all but purred. "And what do you like?" 

Stiles made an undignified squeak, watching as his eyes changed from a light purple to the bright gold they had been in the conference room. This was Flirting, this was definitely flirting, and Stiles had no idea how to handle it. "I, uh, I just wanted to let you know, that, um," Stiles had to take a deep breath, but that was a mistake, because his words came out like a torrent. "The body language and tone and wording are very similar to human mating practices and while I am so for that, I just thought you should know because I need to leave if that wasn't your intention-"

"Oh Stiles," he sighed, leaning in so close their noses were almost touching. "I know exactly what I'm doing." He then pushed forward, smashing their lips together. 

Stiles didn't have anywhere to go with his shock, his hands going to cup Petre's face on instinct. He was cool under his touch, his skin was... vibrating somehow, with an energy that was infectious. Petre knew how to move, knew the right moment to press his tongue into the seam of Stiles' mouth and explore, allowing Stiles to do the same. 

Petre pulled him out of his seat, grabbing him by the hips and lifted Stiles off of his feet with seemingly very little effort. Stiles would have swooned if he weren't so concerned with falling. He wrapped his legs around his waist as he was carried across the room, feeling the meat of his ass being kneaded and massaged. 

Petre stopped and climbed on top of something, then they were laying on the bed. 

"You've," Stiles panted as he was laid out on the bed, "done this before."

"No," Petre breathed, kissing down his stomach, opening buttons has he went. "But I've seen others do this, it is very easy to catch on." 

Stiles was going to have a witty retort for that, but Petre's tongue dipped into his navel, and all that came out was a bitten off moan. "Oh, you fucking cheating bastard." He bent his legs up and away so that he had more room to get at the fastenings of his pants, shucking them off and throwing them to the side. 

Petre’s lips trailed down to suck a mark on his hip. His fingers traced down and idly played with Stiles' rising cock. "Now," he said softly, his breath teasing at his balls, "What do we do with this?"

"Um." Stiles' brain short-circuited. He couldn't think of anything less sexy than explaining point for point how sex was supposed to happen, and his thoughts were already twisting over themselves with how to do that in the quickest way possible. 

Luckily, Petre seemed to be asking that metaphorically. His fingers tapped their way down to Stiles' hole, teasing the rim. "We need this wet, don't we?" His mouth went further down, licking a trail down his crack, seeming to grow longer as it went. 

Stiles could feel the thick muscle teasing at his rim, and got lost in the sensation before coming back to himself. "That-That won't be enough," he panted. "I need lube. Lubrication." he clarified when he saw confusion in Petre's eyes. "Is there a fabricator in here?" 

Petre nodded, jerking his head towards a panel on the far wall. Stiles scrambled to his feet and tried to to get it operating as quickly as possible, tapping his fingers impatiently on the metal as the bottle materialized in front of him. Petre seemed to be completely content to wait on the bed, and by the time Stiles came back, he was fully naked. 

He took the lube from Stiles' hands, studying it quizzically, before popping the cap and spreading the lube across his fingers. He focused his gaze on Stiles, who was once again laying across the bed, hungry in a way that Stiles could definitely describe as human. Stiles felt like he was being laid bare. "Roll over," he ordered, grabbing at Stiles' hip and hiking it up when he was face down into the pillows. 

No longer having a visual on the alien meant he was able to focus solely on the sensations. The first finger slid in like a dream. Stiles tried to arch his back into it, but Petre held him still. "It seems so odd that you can change your coloring as well," he commented. His finger was twisting around aimlessly, but Stiles was able to press down when he thought he was close, and shuddered when he brushed against his prostate. 

"There," Stiles sighed. "right there."

Petre responded by trying to press another finger inside, and curl them in just the right way. "I've seen people shove all manner of things in here," he said quietly. "Do you think I can get this whole appendage in?" 

Stiles moaned so loudly he thought his throat would strain. "Yesssss," he said, then forced himself to grit out a, "carefully." 

"Of course," Petre agreed easily. Stiles felt the fingers moving around, and then sort of, plumping up, stretching him until Stiles told him that was enough, and then started scissoring him. Stiles got lost in it, while Petre leaned forward and left biting kisses along his back and sides. 

Petre made a groaning sound, like sheets of metal bending, Stiles couldn't turn around to see what was happening, the hand on his neck keeping him down resolutely. The fingers inside of him shifted around, narrowing in on that one little spot. Petre leaned in close, and Stiles could feel his mouth ghosting over his ear. "Does this satisfy you?" he whispered. Stiles was too far gone, he couldn't form coherent words, and it wasn't fair that Petre could. "Should I make it bigger? Should I stretch you more?" His other finger teased at the rim of his hole, and Stiles had never wanted anything more in his life.

Petre shifted back. His hand leaving his neck to trail lightly down his spine. Stiles felt the cold of the room for a moment before something was touching his shoulder again, but both of Petre's hands were busy. It was warm, but also sleek and coated with a wet substance. Another one appeared to be touching his left hip. His eyes fluttered open just enough so see what it was. It was a smooth... tentacle, and Stiles' brain took a while to remember what Petre had told him, these was essentially his cock. It was long and Stiles had to turn to see two of them protruding from Petre's back, as thick as a thigh and then tapering off into a thin point. It wasn't porous like the rest of him was, looking to be made more of silicone than skin, which Stiles had to be grateful for. 

Petre was kneeling with his back straight, his arm disappearing into his ass, but finally his eyes seemed a little dazed, and Stiles counted that as one of his greatest victories. 

He uncurled his hand from the sheets and reached for the tentacle. It bent into his touch, curling around his fingers in an expert way. Petre shuddered above him, and didn't resist as Stiles pulled it closer to his face. He rubbed it against his cheek for a moment, getting a grasp of the texture, then boldly licked a stripe up the side. 

Petre spasmed from the tip of the tentacle to his fingers working inside of Stiles. Taking that as a good sign, he put the tip against his lips, then slowly spread them to push himself onto it. He could feel it twisting around his tongue, playing along the roof of his mouth. He kept his hand wrapped around it, making sure he didn't take too much too fast.

The scientist side of his brain was shouting that this wasn't a good idea. He had no idea what the composition of it was, where it had been what diseases were transferable to him, but that part quickly shut up when he felt another finger slide inside him. It was a little too late for regrets. 

The other tentacle made its way under him, moving aimlessly over his stomach and somehow flicking at his nipples, making him clench around the hand inside of him. Stiles didn't know how many fingers they were at now, he'd lost track, it felt like Petre’s whole hand was inside of him, his fingers keeping a steady rhythm as Stiles started to squirm under him. 

"Do you want more?" Petre purred. Stiles moaned in confirmation. To his dismay, Petre pulled his hand back, but only a little for the last little finger, and then he was pushing it further, Stiles felt the wide part of his hand moving passed his rim tortuously slow. Petre even moved his fingers, tapping along his insides making every movement known. The widest part lingered at his entrance, leaving Stiles on a knife's edge, then his hole swallowed it up. 

Stiles' mouth went slack with how overwhelmed he was. He had never had something that big inside him before, no matter how much he had tried. The tentacle took over in its own ministrations, starting to thrust in and out, pushing further and further into his throat. He let it, focusing on the hand in his ass. He didn't have time to wrap his head around the sensations when Petre began to pull out, then push in again slowly. 

"Admit it," he said, his voice dropping deeper. "This is what you really wanted. Ever since you learned about us your mind ran wild with ideas of how we could satisfy you."

Stiles' eyes flashed open, hoping that he was glaring up at Petre. He gathered everything he had and started sucking on the tentacle, determined to reciprocate. 

"You saw that we could do anything, and you wanted it-" he cut off when Stiles timed it perfectly, adding a little graze of his teeth at the end. The result was too many things at once; Petre's eyes turning pure white, the tentacles snapping back into his body in and instance. Petre went rigid, then had to plant his free hand onto the mattress to support himself. Everything went still, reflecting how shocked he was at the reaction. 

After a moment, Petre seemed to collect himself, flashing Stiles a reluctant smirk before grinding the heel of his palm into his prostate, and Stiles was lost again. The frantic pace had to be worked up to again, but Stiles was flying higher and higher with each new thrust. The world became blurry, and his moans didn't cover up the rush of blood in his ears. He came on the sheets, all eclipsing over the self-satisfying thought that _he got this alien off._

It seemed like an eternity by the time Stiles' thoughts all settled down into a cognizant place. He felt Petre pulling out of him like it was far away. A wet towel came from nowhere to clean him up, and then there was a cool presence pressed against his side. Stiles struggled with the monumental task opening of his eyes to see what Petre looked like now. He was back to that teal coloring overall, and his eyes were hazy but golden, and there seemed to be a glow about him. 

Stiles couldn't help the giggle that came out at the thought, which made Petre quirk an eyebrow at him. "You have a literal afterglow," Stiles snickered. 

"I don't know what that means," Petre retorted, amused despite himself. 

"Don't worry about it," Stiles said, pulling him closer and resting his head on that giant shoulder. "I can teach you all the colloquialisms."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love!
> 
> I will be on [My blog](https://crystalmazewriting.tumblr.com/) until they take it away from me. I do commissions now too!


End file.
